DMV

I’m never making an appointment with the DMV again. I called for one this morning. The earliest one available was next Thusday at 2PM. Since this matter really couldn’t wait that long, I decided to risk the Friday afternoon lines. I was in and out within 20 minutes. Time saved by NOT making an appointment: 5 days and 23 hours.

California’s a strange place with respect to driver’s license renewals. To start with, you don’t leave with an actual new license. You leave with a piece of paper clipped to your old one. The new one comes in the mail few weeks later. So much for instant gratification.

Of course, you can always renew by mail, which is what I tried to do in the first place. Thanks to the US Postal Service, however, my check and form are probably now in Oregon somewhere. The thing about renewing by mail is that you end up with the same picture for a decade or so. This is known as the “Dorian Gray Reversal Syndrome”. You age, but the picture stays young.

They must use the same system for newspaper obituary photos, which would explain why that 80-year-old woman who just died in Antioch or Fairfax doesn’t look a day over 40 and still has a big beehive hairdo.

Coming soon: my horror at the fact that my Lucky supermarket on Allemany has suddenly become an Albertson’s.

In Olde Sanne Franciscoe

Y’know, I really didn’t intend for the gastrointestinal journal entry to be on the front page for quite so long, but it’s been a hectic couple of days. That would explain all the email I haven’t answered too. Partially.

Anyway, it looks like a pretty good election this year. Most of the ballot initiatives are going my way, including all the ones I felt strongly about. For the third time, we’ve voted on the fate of what’s left of the Central Freeway. It’s now two votes to one in favor of demolition. Can we tear the damned thing down now or do we have to go for best three out of five?

But the big story, of course, is the success of Tom Amminano’s campaign. For a write-in candidate to recieve 25% of the vote after a two-week campaign speaks volumes about San Francisco’s disgust for the arrogance and sell-out politics of Willie Brown, who managed to pull in only 38% himself. Should be an interesting run-off.

A few random links du jour which I’ve been meaning to add for a while:

Looking forward to getting a lot of sleep this weekend…

2 November 1999

I may have finally found the best bar jukebox in all of San Francisco. The bar surrounding said jukebox is Lucky 13 on Market Street. I was there tonight at a going away party for a friend who’s escaping Kinko’s (at least for a while). There are few things more wonderful than forcing an entire bar to listen to “Let’s Have a War” by Fear. I love livin’ in the city.

There was a joke embedded in that last sentence. Most people won’t get it. I’m comfortable with that.

David’s funk seems to have lifted, you may be thinking. Alas, it’s not true. I’m just masking it better. There could be denial involved. Who knows?

All I know is that now, in addition to being depressed and insomniac, I’m having to face the fact that I may be (shudder) lactose intolerant. I’ll spare you the scatalogical details and just say that consuming Count Chocula now seems to come with a price. I haven’t yet tried any of that stuff from those commercials I used to laugh at. Suggestions welcome, as long as they don’t involve soy milk.

Gee heck. I’m just falling apart, huh? Yeah, I know. Most of the world’s population would kill to have problems as insignificant as mine. That’s small comfort when I have a case of the trots and I’m out of Charmin, dammit…